“I don't know.” But she knew that her husband had been a friend of his father's. Her husband was twenty-five years her senior. “Malcolm Patterson.” There was no joy in her eyes as she said his name, no pride, and suddenly the hat concealed her expression from him completely. He sensed something he didn't like, and she looked anything but happy. So this was what she'd done with the past seven years. He didn't look impressed. He looked annoyed. Very much so.

“I know the name,” Charles said coolly, and then waited to look her in the eye again. “And are you happy?” Was it worth refusing to come back to him? It was obvious to him that it wasn't.

She wasn't sure what to say to him. There were things about her marriage that she cherished. Malcolm had promised to take care of her, at a time in her life when she needed that desperately and he had done that. He had never let her down. He was always kind. But she hadn't realized at first how cool he would be, how aloof, and how busy. And yet, in some ways, he was the perfect husband. Polite, intelligent, chivalrous, charming. But he was not Charles…he was not the flame and passion of her youth…he wasn't the face she dreamt of when she hovered between life and death… or the name she called…and they both knew he never would be. “I'm at peace, Charles. That means a great deal.” There had been no peace with Charles…there was only joy, and excitement, and love, and passion…and eventually despair. As great as the joy had been, so had the sorrow.

“I saw you… in Spain…when I was shot…” he said almost dreamily.

…And I saw you every night for years…she wanted to tell him, but knew she couldn't. Instead, she only smiled. “We all have ghosts, Charles.” Some were just more painful than others.

“Is that it then? Are we ghosts? Nothing more?”

“Maybe.” It had taken her two years in a sanatorium to understand that it was over, to live with the pain, to be able to go on after what had happened. She couldn't jeopardize that now, not even for him, especially not for him. She couldn't allow herself to step back, no matter how much she thought she still loved him. She touched his hand and then his cheek, and he bent to kiss her, but she turned her head just a fraction. He kissed her cheek, just near her lips, and she closed her eyes for a long moment as he held her.